


Missing You

by insomniacjams



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Holidays, M/M, Swedes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniacjams/pseuds/insomniacjams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas morning comes with a fresh snowfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Everything in this story about Nashville, Tennessee, and the Swedish language has come from a quick Google search. Also, let's pretend the Hawks don't meet he Preds before Christmas, though they do in November.

Winter comes with a postcard delivered to his mailbox. Niklas brushes the snow from the card to expose the writing underneath; an untidy scrawl in permanent marker spells out, "Hej, jag saknar dig." Hello, I miss you. Niklas tucks the postcard into his pocket, and walks inside, leaving a trail of footprints on his front path. 

He takes a better look at the postcard when he gets to his kitchen. It's a raccoon, nestled comfortably in a tree, blooming irises dotting the landscape. The block letters at the top tell him "Nashville, Tennessee – America at its Best" Niklas laughs, and leaves the postcard on his fridge.

Johnny and Marcus show up at Niklas' house on the first weekend they have without work related obligations, and they bring in the season with offhand stories about winters freezing to the bone in Sweden, playing pond hockey, and enough eggnog to feed the league.

"I want to go golfing," Johnny says, and Marcus laughs, a high pitched titter that spikes through the low drawl of Johnny's voice. 

"It's December, you fuckwit," Marcus says, and Niklas gives his friends a tight-lipped smile, and brings his eggnog to his mouth in place of arguing. 

"There's never a bad time to go golfing," Johnny tries to object, but Marcus won't hear it, and shoves a moose-print couch cushion into Johnny's mouth. This quickly devolves to wrestling, and Niklas finds himself standing on the rug with his teammates at his feet, rolling around like pups.

He wants to pick them up by the scruff of the neck and pull them apart like they're kittens; for a minute he forgets Johnny's got a good six years on him, and just rolls his eyes. "Oh, quit moping," Johnny says, looking up from where he's taken up residence on the rug.

"Let's watch a movie," Marcus agrees, and Niklas sighs.

"I'll make popcorn." He's in the kitchen trying to figure out if he even has popcorn lying around when Marcus skitters in and stares at the fridge.

"What is this?" He asks, glancing at the magnets and other tacky souvenirs that litter the surface. Niklas thinks it makes the place look lived in, and that the magnets, the photographs of friends and families at weddings, the baby pictures- they make the kitchen warm, like the home he's always wanted.

"It's a fridge; a bit of an endangered species, really, but I think this one's friendly. It won't bite, unless you bite it first," Niklas tells him, finally throwing some microwave popcorn on and pushing a couple buttons that gets the damn thing working.

"No, I meant this," Marcus says, pointing to the postcard Niklas found in his mailbox on the first day of winter. 

"It's just a postcard," he says, but that in no way prevents Marcus from ripping it out of under his Disneyland Resort magnet, and examining it in closer detail.

"Who do you know in Nash-" Marcus stops mid-sentence as he flips it over, and sees the familiar handwriting and Swedish scribble on the back. "I didn't realize you were still in touch with Viktor."

"Me neither," Niklas says, taking the bag of popcorn from the beeping monstrosity on his counter and emptying it methodically into a large silver bowl. Too much eggnog and carcinogenic popcorn later, Johnny and Marcus leave Niklas to clean up their mess.

As he puts his cushions back onto the couch and tidies his kitchen, he spots the postcard where Marcus left it, lying on the counter. "I miss you too," he says, but his empty kitchen isn't sentient, and Niklas gives up on cleaning in favor of falling face first into his empty bed, until the dust from his pillows start to feel heavy on his tongue.

Christmas Eve comes with a phone call. It echoes through the house, drowning out the sound of the crackling flames dancing in the fireplace, and the hum of Chicago radio. Marcus is sprawled out loose and content on Niklas' couch, talking to his mother on his cell phone like the fetus he truly is (and always will be).

"Are you going to answer that?" Johnny asks, and Niklas looks around the room a bit just to make sure both his friends stay put, before he wanders into the hall where he'd left his phone. It's still ringing, and the screen is lit up with a picture of Stockholm from the previous summer.

"Hej," Niklas answers. His voice sounds raw, like he's been coughing, or nerves have gotten the better of him in the past few months. He twists his free hand into his pocket, and he's sure by the end of the call there'll be a new hole in place. Maybe he should buy new jeans.

"It doesn't feel like winter without the snow," Viktor says. He sounds relaxed, like he's lying in his own bed, burrowed into his sheets like an abnormally mobile sausage. Niklas knows that image far too well.

"Come home," Niklas says. His fingers pierce through the soft fabric on the inside of his pockets, and he immediately lifts his hand to his head in frustration, tangling his hair into his fingers and letting it fall again as he reminds himself that he is 26 years old, and balding.

"Tomorrow," Viktor says, and Niklas' breath comes out in a long gust of relief. "I've got one night to show you how much I really do miss you."

"It wasn't your fault," Niklas tells him, watching from the corner of his eye as Marcus creeps into the hall.

"It wasn't yours either," Viktor says. There's a long measure of silence; Niklas tries to memorize the pattern of Viktor's breathing, and fend off Marcus with his mind. 

"Who are you talking to?" Marcus croaks at him, and Niklas groans into the receiver, trying and failing to glare daggers into Marcus' baby face. 

"My mother," he lies easily, and he can hear Viktor laugh on the other end. Marcus scrunches his face into a distasteful arrangement, and Johnny calls out from the living room.

"Stop being an asshole and come eat pie with us." Niklas is human; he's not going to deny himself pie, because that would just be unnecessary self-harm. He wanders into the living room, and eats Johnny's damn pie.

Niklas lies on top of his blankets that night, and wrings his hands together until his fingers grow numb, an old nervous habit of his. He tosses and turns, sticking his head under the pillow a few times, twisting his body into the sheets and praying for a moment of sleep. It comes with restlessness and dreams of a better past.

Christmas morning comes with a fresh snowfall, and the smell of cookies that Niklas doesn't remember baking. His bed sinks, and cold hands slip under his shirt. "Hej," Viktor says. When Niklas looks up, Viktor looks too small for his face, lost in his hopeful expression.

"Good morning," Niklas pulls him into the bed, wrestling with the duvet until they're both under it and wrapped around each other. Viktor's body is as cold as his hands, but Niklas doesn't mind warming him up like this. "I missed you."

"I'll always miss you," Viktor says, "Until we can be together again." He traces patterns onto Niklas' spine, and buries his face into Niklas' neck. He hasn't shaved in a couple days, and his feet won't stop searching for warmth somewhere near Niklas' calves. 

"We will be, for good, one day," Niklas says. And Viktor just smiles into his neck, that wide, goofy smile that Niklas hasn't seen in months, so he twists around to take a look.

"Until then," Viktor says, pressing their foreheads together, "I will miss you every day you're not right here."

"What if I am though?" Niklas asks, moving in to close the space between them.

"Then I'll miss missing you." Viktor breathes.

And for the first time since the start of the season, they kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. :)   
> Feedback is greatly appreciated.


End file.
